Shattered and Scrambled
by shippyphile
Summary: My first fanfic -- the stories of Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and Reyes directly after "the Truth," MSR, DRR


Shattered and Scrambled

Chapter 1

The silent hotel room was nestled deep within the safety that comes from ignorance, and this very night that odd safety coated Roswell, New Mexico like a thick blanket on a summer day. Something was afoot, but only a few people could possibly know it. The silence was disconcerning, but regular, and as unimportant as a fly crawling on a table to most people. But it was not of the kind that you could just shoo away with the flick of your hand.

Even though the rain relentlessly poured down outside, Mulder felt warm and safe here, even though he knew he shouldn't be. He felt himself getting too comfortable, and reminded himself that he was now a fugitive. A fugitive that knew too much. A fugitive that should be dead. The final words he had spoken hung in the air, the sugar coating melting off into the heat of his sudden thoughts. He looked over at Scully's amber hair and suddenly felt a momentary surge of comfort. The women he'd loved for 9 long years was in his arms for the first time in a year. For the moment, he lay there, trying to feel content, but knew what was coming for him. And knowing that, it was impossible to feel anything but worried.

Scully lay still and listened closely to the rhythmic yet uneven rattle of the rain on the hotel roof. Every once-and-a-while she would open her eyes to see a streak of lightning flash across the night sky, encompassing what had been a dark night into a white eerie glow that vanished as quickly as it had come. She looked at the few trees the hotel had planted outside, struggling to grow in this harsh desert climate. They seemed as if they were waving their branches in welcoming to her. _This is what I need, _she thought_. A little security on a night like this. _

When she heard the thunder roar and rumble in the distance, she felt like her world was crumbling. One loud crack of thunder defiantly challenged her ear drums and made her heart jump and tremble when the thunder soon followed. _I'm like a candle flickering in the rain, persistent._ When the next round of thunder passed through, she drew her breath in sharply with shock. _That thunder sounds like jets, flying above. I wonder if they are. I'm just scaring myself. But, it's true. I'll have to ask that question for the rest of my life. _The realization shoved her forward, grasping for information. She grabbed on to the one twig she had left before falling off the cliff into oblivion: William.

She dared to wonder if Mulder was sent to her because she gave up William. She'd heard numerous people, fanatical people, but people nonetheless tell her that she'd have to choose between the two of them. _Is this their insanely cruel way of telling me I made the wrong choice? _Maybe when she'd given up William, CSM had somehow found out and therefore, set Mulder up by sending him the keycard. _But how could he possibly have known that? _She questioned. _He was hiding away in the desert, away from all civilization! But, he was the CSM, after all. _

Scully's thoughts subsided and she just lay in Mulder's arms. But being Scully, she couldn't relax for long before another troubling thought popped into her sensible head. How _was_ William? Everyday she battled with herself about giving him up.

_Yep, it's time for the daily guilt trip, _Scully thought. She couldn't help but wonder if he was actually better protected in – _I don't even know where he is!_ She knew there was only one thing to do now, so she whispered one word into the dark like she'd done so many times before, "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" He replied.

"Oh... you're up?" Scully asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about stuff - important stuff, don't worry - and I fell asleep. But not for long. I had a nightmare.

Scully chuckled, "a nightmare, Mulder?"

"I know, I know, I haven't had one since I was, like 10. But maybe it wasn't a nightmare. It was scary, but I think it was trying to tell me something."

"Well anyway, Mulder, I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about important stuff too. And, well, I need to talk to you desperately.

"Shoot."

"Well, Mulder, it's about William. You see, while you were hiding out in New Mexico, I met with a man who had taken our son. And he said that I'd have to choose between you and William, and he wasn't the first person to say that. So, I'm thinking that maybe that's why the CSM sent you the card, as sort of a "reward" so I could see you again. But, he didn't count on you escaping, so now I think that even CSM would be puzzled. We may still have a chance to rescue William while everyone else is stumbling around in the fog trying to find their glasses. And we need to rescue him, because I've also heard that he could be an alien prophecy, if he's not raised by his father. And if he is, he'll become an alien "hunter", like you," she breathed, rushing to spill all her gossip.

"Well," Mulder considered. He sat on the sagging bed in silence for awhile, and Scully thought he looked like a desert flower after a drenching downpour, trying to soak up all the precious water before it disappeared. "Scully, are you willing to take such a big risk just because some wacky UFO cult leader said so?" He finally questioned.

"Mulder, you're always telling me to play my hunches. Well, now couldn't possibly be a better time to test out my accuracy. We have nothing else _to do," _she exclaimed with a bit of emphasis for effect.

Mulder considered this for awhile too. "Well, then there's only one thing we can do," he joked back in a deep bass voice, nearly bursting out in laughter. "No, seriously (which also made him chuckle, but after that quick laugh his mouth became a flat crease again) we have to save William. If the cult is right, we could prevent the whole alien invasion!"

Scully could almost see his eyes glittering in the darkness at the idea of a risky adventure. _He reminds me of my brothers on their birthdays, _she remembered. "But, Mulder," she uttered her classic line. "I want to see William just as bad as you do, but there are several things you're forgetting in your calculation, most of which I don't even have to mention because I know you're already aware of them, you're just choosing to forget them. But just because you forget your problems, doesn't mean the FBI will too when we come strolling into headquarters. It's just not possible."

Her words cut into the air like ice, and stayed frozen there, waiting for a reply. But Scully knew she'd been too harsh and put her arm around Mulder. Soon, she whispered, "I'm sorry," and let her words fade away into the night.

Chapter 2

Monica Reyes peered over her shoulder as Mulder and Scully sped away in the opposite direction, then she shot a quizzical glance at her partner, John Doggett, who was at the wheel. He shoved it right back at her, accompanied by a shrug. She gazed back at the horrible sight they had barely escaped: helicopters wreaking havoc on what seemed to be abandoned pueblos. "It's a shame they're destroying that historic sight," she complained softly. "They don't even look inhabited."

"Well then what were Mulder and Scully doing in them?" He questioned. "Maybe someone hid something in them."

Only semi-satisfied, she almost opened her mouth to reply, but thought the better of it and sat back in her seat. _Those must be something besides just pueblos, _she told herself. It didn't make sense. She knew she should be used to it, Mulder, Scully, or The X-Files rarely made sense. But before she thought about what she was doing, another question burst from her closed lips, "but where are they going? The main road _is_ this way, right?"

"I don't know Monica. Remember, we got here via the sky. I'm just going the way Knowle Rhoer came," John remarked with confidence.

"OK John, but the last thing I want to do is get lost in the middle of the 1,000 degree desert," she replied.

"Well, we can't do much else," John answered.

_It was true, _she thought. _We can't call anyone or buy anything with credit cards. We're essentially fugitives on the run. _"John, do you think we have enough cash for a hotel room?" She asked earnestly.

"Well I only have around 50 bucks, or maybe less," John replied, trying to lift the disappointed tone in his voice.

"Same here. Well, we could get 1 room with 2 beds, but that's about it.

"We have to decide where we're going first, can't afford to waste gas. Anyway, I don't even see a McDonalds, so I'm pretty sure there aren't any hotels - or even people - around either," teased John. "We're coming to a road up ahead. Will you get out that map and try to find it? I want to know where it goes."

Monica sighed and reached for the US map that had been on the passenger seat, and in the rush, was quickly relocated to the floor. It had been stepped on more than a gum wrapper a careless person had discarded in a bustling intersection. "I think its US route 86," she replied, squinting to see the tiny roads on the heavily creased map.

"So, where should we go?"

"Well, this road doesn't lead much of anywhere. It'll take some effort to get on a real highway from here. "But, we can't go back to D.C.," she answered matter-of-factly. "Wait a second; I know where we can stay." She traced the lines with her fingers, "we can stay at my parents' house in Mexico City. This road will take us close to the border. I'm sure my parents won't mind. At least that way we can conserve our precious cash a little longer and we'll be safer. Is that OK with you?"

"I guess so," John said reluctantly. He figured it would be pretty awkward to stay there, _but desperate times call for desperate measures_, he thought. "You better drive." He pulled over and they switched sides. When they got to the main road at last, Monica turned right, to Mexico City, where her parents' house was tucked away amongst many others, where they'd be safe, and where more was waiting for them then they ever expected.

Chapter 3

The bright desert sun broke through the tacky hotel curtains with almost no effort at all, even though they seemed thicker then anything Scully had ever seen before. The warm rays splashed over her face, and she shielded her unprotected eyes from the harsh sun. She finally gave in and opened them slowly, scanning the room in one quick glance. She found nothing out of the ordinary, and for some reason, this surprised her. The window was what caught her attention, though. As she squinted through it, she noticed it was vibrant and full of color and life. She struggled to remember what it had looked like a few hours ago, bleak and dreary. _So what they say is true, she thought. Rain does bring life to the desert. _This beautiful scene so opposite from what she'd seen before filled her with hope, and she couldn't help but tousling Mulder's hair and calling, "Mulder, wake up."

"What time is it?" He asked his annoyed voice muffled in his pillow.

Scully's glance darted over to the alarm clock, which she'd forgotten to check in the middle to her sudden rush of hope."Oh shit! Mulder, it's already 10:45!"

"No, it can't be, can it?" Came his reply, muffled against the pillow he hid his face in.

"Mulder, would I lie to you?"

"Hah!"

"I've never been more serious in my life."

"Sure," but his reply was shaky. "Wait, are you positive?"

"I've known how to tell time since 3rd grade, I don't think I'd forget."

"No, it's not. It isn't. You just want me up."

"Fine Mulder. Suit yourself. If you can come up with an extra days' money for this room, you do that. Otherwise, we check out in 15 minutes."

"Nope. I'm not falling for that." After Mulder's last comment, the room was silent again. But soon, Mulder jerked his head up and peered out from under the covers at the clock. It read 6: 09 am. After seeing this, Mulder just collapsed on his pillow, ready for the bombardment of teasing from Scully.

And it came. She was softly cackling to herself at first, but then it escalated into a full-blown laugh, then she started coughing and Mulder had to whack her on the back several times to get it to subside. But, she still carried on, with a soft chuckle every now and then. "Oh, you should have _seen_ your face, Mulder. It was priceless. I wish I'd had a camera."

"Ha, ha, it's all very funny, isn't it? But the joke's on you because I'm sleeping in."

"No, come on, you know we have to decide what to do," she fought back.

"OK. It's easy."

"Should I take notes?"

Mulder shot her a sideways glance. "Do you want my opinion or not?"

"Sorry. It's just _so _funny."

"Ha. Ha." So they finally stopped joking (for the most part, because Scully kept slipping in comments about his expression, or his plan, or anything in general. And, being in a silly mood, Mulder always fought back with some joke, a competition they'd managed to keep up for 9 years) and started devising a plan.

Scully knew Mulder knew that his plan had some major holes, but she hoped, like all his plans before, that this one would get better as they went along. So, while he was checking out, she spared 65 cents to buy him some sunflower seeds at a vending machine around the corner. She ate a few too, calling them "brain food."

"Turn to the left, Mulder," she said once they'd checked out, gotten in the car, and hit the main road.

"No, I think we should go to the right," he replied.

"Well, you have 2 choices and one of them is wrong. Personally, I think it's yours."

Suddenly, he drove straight onto a little pile of dust that Scully thought probably wasn't even considered a road.

"Mulder!" Scully complained.

"Scully!" Mulder mocked, only after he'd donned a falsetto nasal voice. "Of the 9 years we've been together, how many times have I been wrong? Never! Well, at least not in driving anyway!"

"What I want to know is how many times you've said that exact phrase," she remarked. "Now you know it's not this way, I don't even think this is a road, and unless you want to get us caught by the police before we even get to DC, I would turn around. I think you've proved your point, and had a little fun. Now _turn around_ before you get us both in serious trouble."

When Scully had finished her 'speech,' Mulder started snickering, and got quite red in the face. But, he turned around and headed right, laughing all the way. _It is this kind of stuff that makes us such a great team,_ Scully considered. _It's impossible to feel unhappy for more than a millisecond when you're around Mulder. The jokes and playful insults help cover the pain, and they're doing a considerably good job. _

Chapter 4

Monica turned and looked over at her partner, now fast asleep in the passenger seat next to her. The car was silent, but all around her cars honked, horns blared, and sirens wailed their melancholy tune. _How can he sleep through this? _She wondered. She was both eager and edgy about going home. It was a part of her past she'd desperately tried to forget over the past 13 years away. The adoption she had tried to hide. _Oh shit! _She thought. _I still haven't told John. What's he going to think when he meets them?_ By them, she was referring to her adopted parents. They were nice, but she had a feeling that things were going to be a little awkward. _So much of my past is here, _she considered. _So why have I been hiding from it? Why am I so afraid to face who I really am? Let the world know?_ Then she remembered the reason, and it appeared before her eyes so realistically it was like she was reliving it. Not realizing it, her hands gripped the wheel, and she was alone in trance of fear until John called out.

"Hey, Monica! Watch out!"

She pushed the thought out of her head and focused on the crowded road. "Oh I'm sorry," she muttered. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you okay," he questioned.

"Oh yeah, yeah, fine." She figured she'd wait a little, and then tell him. But the luxury of waiting was never available to a fugitive. "Um, John?" She questioned.

"Yeah?"

"Um, I just wanted to give you a little heads up, my parents don't really speak English."

John just looked at her waiting for an explanation.

"Well, my dad speaks a bit, but my mom doesn't much at all," she rambled. "Anyway, about them, well, I was adopted, they aren't my birth parents. I grew up with them in Mexico ever since I can remember. They told me I was adopted even before my first birthday and I don't know about my birth parents. My adopted dad came over to the states to try to work, and adopted me there before he got laid off. So, they moved back to Mexico City."

"That's interesting."

"As you've probably already noticed, this part of Mexico is very different from the glamorous resorts," she continued with a wave of her hand. "Unless something had changed, the house isn't too nice. Who knows? I haven't been back in 13 years. I haven't even really talked to my parents. I hope they still live in the same place."

"I hope you still remember Spanish."

"Sure. It was my first language. It's amazing I can remember English. Anyway," she added, glad to be clear of such an embarrassing subject, "we're almost there." She announced this while barely making the turn onto a small gravel road in the SUV she was driving. "Oh it looks almost unchanged. Oh god. I hope they haven't moved." She turned into a gravel chunk of land in front of a worn out ranch-style house and left out a deep sigh. "There's dad's old pickup. They still live here. Follow me."

She took a very deep breath and let it out slowly before knocking on the door. Presently a slightly pudgy woman slowly opened the door, this action accompanied by a shrill gasp.

"Mama!" Monica cried, overcome with a sudden joy as she embraced her mother. They talked very fast for what seemed like ages, and John - having no idea what to do or what they were saying, and feeling very out of place in this rushed reunion -just paced around the porch.

_This house needs some serious attention, _he thought. The paint was peeling off the sides, the shutters were falling down, and the wood under him moaned with every step he took. _Maybe I should just stay in one place, _he contemplated. _This would not be the time to fall through the porch. _The area around the house was just covered in sprawling weeds, trailing up the house in a scraggly fashion.

"John! John!" Monica called, snapping him from his judgments. "John, this is my mom, Maria. Maria, el se llama John, mi amigo y pareja en el F.B.I. Deces, 'hi', mama."

"Hi." Maria muttered as they unsteadily shook hands. She looked very sheepish at a first glance, but John noticed a flare of concern for her daughter bubbling in her eyes.

Monica took John over to the side of the porch as Maria disappeared inside. As the porch groaned under them, Monica looked down and sighed. "John, I'm going to move the car around back," Monica whispered. "A new car of that size would very suspicious, if you noticed the others on the drive down her. Then we can wash up. And I'm sure you're hungry, and for your sake I hope you can handle spicy food."

"No problem," said John in a macho manner.

"Okay, but I'm just warning you, this is _no_ Taco Bell," Monica teased as she sauntered off to the car.

Later, John, Monica, Maria, and Monica's father sat huddled around a cramped kitchen table. John observed that the outside that the inside of the house was just as decrepit as the outside. A tattered tablecloth had been hastily thrown on the wood table to hide its many imperfections. The flowers of the pattern looked like they had been thrown in a gutter and then retrieved many hours later, as an afterthought. That's how the whole house could be described: neglected. The stained wood and flaking wallpaper that shed all over the floor like an old man with dandruff completed the image. John saw it as very misfortunate that such a nice family couldn't have a better place to proudly call home.

Monica's mom jabbered away to Mr. Reyes, who, in turn, spoke delicately and tenderly to Monica, his words the exact opposite of his tough and massive build. Monica replied quickly and then spoke to John. "John, this is my dad Santiago. Papa, el se llama John."

"John," Santiago spoke. "I con-con, como se dice en cuestion?"

"Concerned," Monica added.

"Ah, yes. I concerned for you. It no good to be run from..." he trailed off.

"The law," Monica offered.

John looked surprised but pleased at Santiago's attempt to speak English. He replied back, choosing his words warily. "Well, sir, I appreciate your concern, but there's really nothing else we can do, we are innocent. Our friend did the right thing but was framed. We cannot give in and sacrifice our lives and our morals."

Despite Doggett's careful word choice, Santiago looked at Monica quizzically, and she swiftly explained what he had said. "Very well. Me need two things from you. Be safe and not, como se dice descuidado?"

"Careless."

"Yes. Be not careless. And call me not sir, call me Santiago," he stuttered, the last word, his own name, flowing off his tongue like a spewing waterfall.

"Okay, Santiago. Don't worry; your daughter is safe with me," John assured him.

At this Monica almost turned purple; the only one to notice was her mother, who successfully hid her laughter with her hand. Monica glanced across the table at her, raising an eyebrow in protest, to symbol 'don't say a word.'

"Ah, but it is not right. I worry every day she is not with us," moaned Monica's dad.

Monica's face turned incredibly red, and she muttered, "lo siento. Anyway, let's eat," she commented, moving on from the intentional guilt trap. "I'm sure you're hungry, and I'm anxious to see if you can take the heat," she beamed, while taking a big forkful of what appeared to be ordinary Spanish rice and plopping it squarely into her mouth. Then she shot him a glance, signaling, 'it's your turn now.'

John picked up his fork and scooped up a clump of rice. He slid it into his mouth and bit down slowly, suddenly becoming very aware of the heap of rice resting on his tongue. "Oh, I don't know what you're making such a big deal about Mon-," was all he could manage before he started coughing furiously. "Water," he gasped and reached for his glass, chugging it down in an instant. "God Monica," was all he could pant after briefly pausing to catch his breath.

"Oh John, that was _hilarious!_" Monica giggled.

"Oh, well, yeah, maybe to you. But I think I have a 3rd degree burn on the roof of my mouth now."

The rest of the Reyes family joined Monica as she continued to stifle her laughs throughout dinner as John got up six times to get more water.

Since there was only one bedroom, John and Monica were both stuck sleeping on the ground in a massive pile of blankets. The worn wooden planks creaked and whined under them, striking the silence of the warm night full-force.

"I know you told me not to worry, John, but what _are_ we going to do?" Monica inquired as the darkness enveloped them.

"I don't know, but as long as we're safe, the only thing we can do is wait it out," he responded.

"Well, for your sake I hope there isn't a drought or water shortage," she joked. "Tomorrow I'll take you to the airport, and you can get what'll have to pass for "real" American food."

But what Reyes didn't know is by agreeing to that she was going to be getting a lot more than just a drive to "el aeropuerto and a gargantuan pile of cold, grease-soaked fries.

As she tossed and turned in her cluster of covers, she tried to close her eyes and catch the prized sleep she needed dreadfully. But, every time she closed her eyes, that frightful image that she had seen in the car earlier filled her head again, compelling her eyes to snap open, a frantic stab at trying to forget the incident. But no matter how hard people struggle, they can't forget their past.

_As a little girl she was playing with a little boy. The dream was always the same every time she had it. Suddenly she felt something pulling at her, motioning her upwards, towards the non-existent stars on this bleak night. She tried to pull away, but, as always, with no influence. She hung, like a forlorn wind chime, suspended in space for the moment, hysterically scanning the darkness that was swallowing her as she watched, helpless. She gave up, and just hung, her tears never splashing on the ground, if it was even there. Suddenly a high-pitched sting cut through the air, soaring through her ears, and causing her to jerk her head and plaster her hands over her ears. But the screaming siren never went away. It never left her, and she was forever haunted by its memory whenever she heard it. _

_Except that wasn't enough torment for one night. As she hung, and the buzzing got louder and louder, her life spread underneath her, but then, since she had been only seven or eight when the dream had first visited her, she hadn't even known it belonged to her. Now, she had the memories to prove what was swirling beneath her certainly looked familiar. It began as always, with a vast stretch of green light glimmering on the horizon, then, it flashed right to her childhood in Mexico. It had always disappointed Monica that this dream never revealed anything about her past before she was adopted. Then there were snapshots of her in the FBI academy, and she doubled back in disgust as a slideshow of Brad and her glittered beneath her. The next shot showed her accompanied by John, solving an X-File she could never recall even hearing of. The end froze on a snapshot of both of their bodies rotting away into the ground. She drew her breath in sharply in fear, and found herself back in her parents' house, with her eyes wide open, staring into her wet pillow. When her breathing calmed down again, a new sound filled her ears: a distant and high-pitched drone that had haunted her since she was young. And now it was back._

Chapter 5

As they neared D.C., Scully shook Mulder awake. They'd been driving for 2 days, streaking down deserted county roads and making only necessary stops. Just recently Scully had taken over the wheel again, so Mulder could catch enough sleep to at least have some of his wits about him for whatever brainless and audacious move they'd make next. And as she pulled past the sign marking the "last rest stop in Virginia" that was what she desperately needed to discuss; the future. "Mulder," she whispered, "we need to talk."

After a long pause, Mulder responded, "Where are we Scully?"

"Just outside of D.C.," she replied. "So what we need to figure out now is what to do when we arrive."

"Well, I'll say it again, the plan is very simple."

"Sure Mulder," Scully replied, her words dripping with sarcasm that she wasn't trying to hide.

"Oh, I think a big scientific brain like yours can handle this," he shot back. Scully could only smile a rare, well-done smile. "Ok," he continued. "Here it is. We make some disguises, sneak into DC on back roads like 177, and, at night, break into FBI headquarters. I have a feeling I know exactly whose locked drawers the records will be in."

Scully knew not to test his confident smile, so, even though she felt very uncertain, she just put the car in drive.

Less than 1 hour later, Scully cautiously slid the car into a narrow space on the silent street, about 3 blocks south of headquarters. Not a word had been spoken, as both were immersed in their separate dark reflections. Now they sat in the darkness, not moving, barely even breathing, and afraid to show they were alive.

"Disguises, Mulder?" Scully offered.

Mulder snapped out of his trance like a twig that had been haphazardly dropped off a cliff by a wayward child. He set his mind toward the present task, away from the LGM, and some message they were trying to force into his brain that he was hopelessly trying to grasp. _Think about that later, _he told himself. _There are more important things to think about right now than a weird dream, _he falsely reassured himself, still feeling that there was some hidden meaning, which like a kite stuck in a soaring tree, he couldn't quite snatch.

"Disguises, right," he finally answered, sounded a bit dazed. "Well we need some things to cover our heads."

They both sat in silence, thinking.

"Give me your shirt, Mulder," Scully replied into the dismal silence.

He obeyed, and soon, Scully wore his shirt over her head, complete with two eyeholes made with help from Mulder's pocket knife.

"Scully, you look _ridiculous,_ Mulder chided.

"Well Mulder, I wouldn't laugh because I've got an idea for your head gear," she shot back. "I'll need your pocket knife again.

So Scully unscrewed a panel on the side of the car door, and before Mulder knew what he was getting himself into, she was cutting the air bag loose, making eye holes, and shoving the crinkled contraption on to his head. "Mulder, maybe people weren't so wrong calling you spooky. Where are you going trick-or-treating, Casper?" She joked, enjoying the payback.

"It's so fortunate that you are so creative," Mulder muttered with a fake sincerity. "But revenge can be bitter." He thought for a while and then came up with, "So they can't recognize us by our height, you should probably take off those 7 inch heels."

Scully rolled her eyes, but obeyed because she knew that Mulder was right. After discussing the plan roughly, they stepped out onto the wet sidewalk and made their way toward FBI headquarters. But there was one thing Scully just couldn't ignore, "Mulder, my shoes aren't anywhere near 7 inches. I'm not that shallow, or short."

Scully's sopping socks squeaked unpleasantly on the tile floors of the FBI headquarters. She hoped no one was here to notice. She scarcely had enough courage to breathe, she felt it was odd that they had gotten this far. The night had been strangely brisk and bitter, making her wonder. _I hope the CSM isn't letting us get by until we get where the files are, and then catch us. I hope we're not leading him to William, _she worried. _The weirdest thing about this whole break-in business is how we got in. A keycard suddenly appeared in Mulder's hands, and I swear I heard him mutter, "Thanks Alex." _Scully couldn't believe he'd actually gotten the card from Krychek, but the strangest thing was 'his' reply, she thought Krychek had whispered the letters w and y. What was so significant about those two letters? _Am I just hearing things? Well, now isn't the time to ponder this,_ she thought._ I'm probably missing something obvious because I'm just so tired. I hope so._

She crept slightly behind Mulder, letting him lead her wherever he thought he was going. They eventually paused at a door, which Scully recognized as one of the senior staff. Inside it was gorgeous, and so much more spacious than the rats' nest they had occupied in the basement. According to plan, Mulder slipped in, and after practically tripping over an errant chair, found his way to a filing cabinet, and began the laborious process of breaking into it.

Scully finally knew why Mulder had chosen this particular man's office; he was a judge at Mulder's trial, in fact, the judge that Gibson had pegged as "not human." She sure hoped he was right.

Meanwhile, Mulder was busily flipping through various folders, and Scully saw his face light up at the sight of some of them. The wedge of light streaming down from the stars caught his face as he tried to blink away the tears. "All the answers we've been looking for during the past 9 years are right here, Scully. Too bad they don't concern us anymore," he said, his voice heavy with regret that he wasn't trying to mask. He snapped the folder shut and looked through another as the slam pulsed through the room.

The next folder produced another look that made the gloomy room seem to glow. Mulder flipped through the folder at an alarming rate, his depression cast aside and shattered on the floor, and with a new rhythm of excitement pounding through his blood. Then he nodded, Scully's cue.

She grabbed the file from his sweaty palms and sped out of the room, almost slipping on the marble floor several times. She dashed out onto the sidewalk and felt her thin socks rapidly shred beneath her feet. She had never run so fast in her life, and she arrived at the car in an instant. Then she floored the accelerator and sped off to pick up Mulder. She didn't care about noise and attention anymore. It was all up to fate. The 3 short blocks flew by and she slammed on the breaks at the last minute. Mulder thrust the door open and jumped in as she started to pull away.

Only when the door had been closed, Scully had pulled onto the first highway, 177, and the pair had caught their breath, Scully dared to utter, "You didn't set anything off, did you?"

"I don't think so," Mulder gasped.

He hoped not.

Chapter 6

Silence smothered the car heading to "El Aeropuerto International de Mexico." Outside the car, however, the sounds were quite different. Horns blared repeatedly, and Monica frequently tested the silence as she gripped the steering wheel of her parents' car. She had decided to use their car so they wouldn't appear as obvious as they would have in a shiny SUV that towered over the other cars. Being an American was enough to stand out here.

But cars' horns that weren't the only ones that echoed through Monica's eardrums. The ever-present buzz had gotten even more shrill and deafening since her most recent revival of the dream that had visited her ever since she was six. _Why won't this go away? _She wondered. _It's never gone on this long before without stopping. _

Someone cut her off again, but this time the silence was just too tempting. "Where are you going?!" She snapped in Spanish, taking her frustration out on the steering wheel.

"You want me to drive?" John inquired.

"That's ok John. I don't think there's a place to pull over. And you would probably get just as frustrated as I am, and lost. Anyway, we're almost there, if I could just get over a lane."

John let her get back to driving, which needed full concentration, while he fantasized about the great meal he'd soon be enjoying.

Monica darted briskly through the crowds of people as John trailed behind her until they reached a McDonalds that looked mobbed with Americans. _Stupid_, Monica thought. _They come all the way to Mexico and what do they eat? Typical. Typical and stupid. _

The crowd surprised John too, but for a different reason. He had empathy for all the guys in line with burnt tongues that stayed up all night making trips to the bathroom to relieve their burning mouths with several gulps of water. There was something different he didn't understand. "Don't any Mexicans crave deep fried hamburgers?"

"I'm sure they would, if they could afford one. A Big Mac costs an average months salary," she retorted like a text book, but with a touch of drama for effect. "Even you must admit that is a pretty frivolous waste of money."

John was about to question the 'even you' part of her reply, but he found himself ordering a Super Size Big Mac Value Meal from a lady who spoke broken English with a very heavy accent. _Maybe she gets a discount_, he tried to inform himself as an attempt to relieve the guilt, with no affect. He wished Monica wouldn't tell him such depressing stuff. But he wasn't going to let it ruin his meal. He slid into a table with Monica across from him. "You're not eating anything?" He gasped, shocked.

"No," she replied, while darting her eyes around making sure they weren't noticed in this huge mob of Americans.

John opened his box and hastily un-wrapped his lukewarm fries, and Monica could see the anticipation pulsing through him like a kid who hears a bark from one of the boxes under the Christmas tree. He elevated the burger - drenched with a pool of melted-together condiments - to his mouth, and was just about to sink his teeth into the bun when a shot rang out in the air. He dropped his burger as he and Monica snapped to attention like two brand new folding chairs.

Monica gasped at what she saw next. Billy Miles, the Super Soldier that had tried to kill her more than a year ago in Georgia, was advancing toward them. Another Super Solider, she presumed, was tearing a baby from a frightened mother's arms at a nearby table. The baby's panicked face flashed across her mind, and in an instant, she came to the shocking realization of just who that baby was.

The humming in her ears rose to a deafening level. "William!" She cried, helpless.

Chapter 7

Dana gripped the steering wheel and the car swerved back into her control. _Good, we're safe,_ she thought,

letting a nervous breath escape from her mouth, a momentary calm drenching her body. But then it was back to driving. As planned, the car picked up speed on the highway and raced off into the dim night. They pulled into a rest stop 2 hours later, confident that no one was following them. They both sat in silence for a moment, but it wasn't long before each of their fingers began inching toward the folder, nervously anticipating the secrets that would be revealed. However, the secrets weren't as clear as they'd planned. The only information that was yielded was a box marked 'state', but the 7 letters were blacked out.

"Oh, just great," Scully cried, trying to hold back tears with no chance of actually doing so. "There must be 10 states that have 7 letters in them."

"9, actually," whispered Mulder softly, knowing that this was not a time to make jokes. He comforted her, and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh Mulder, it's just that I want to see him so bad and now there's no way that we can ever get to do that. He'll grow up never really getting to know his parents at all, and we'll grow old missing our one chance at a child." Her sobs continued until she fell asleep in his arms, which was probably not the smartest choice for a pair of fugitives, but they both felt defeated, and could care less what happened to them now. Fate had played its role. But little did they know, fate had a few more cards up its sleeve.

Mulder awoke with a sudden feeling that he knew something he hadn't know before. He sat there, in the silence of the car, trying to place this odd feeling. Then it hit him full-force. W and y, well, of course, WY! Wyoming! He felt the excitement and counted on his fingers just to make sure he wasn't making a careless mistake. 7 letters! "Scully, Scully, I got it! Get up!"

"Wha?" Was all she could reply.

"You know how Krychek said WY? Well, I think it stands for Wyoming. Wyoming has 7 letters too. What's the possibility of that? It has to be where William is! Krychek helped us again!"

Scully just sat there waking up, and when she did, she realized how possible it was that Wyoming was where William now lived. She didn't say anything as she reached for the road map, and put the car in drive. When they had gotten back on the right road, she whispered, "thank you, Krychek," and broke down in tears of joy.

Chapter 8

Monica rushed out of her chair very haphazardly and sped off to the table where William was being taken. John pulled his gun and started firing at Billy Miles. _Not again, _Monica thought, even though hearing herself think was a challenge as the ferocious murmur bubbled over her ears. _Sometimes his slowness worries me. _But she had no more time for thought, just rushed and frantic feats at trying to get William back from the unknown Super Soldier. She tired to strike the Super Solider on the head, but he ducked and swung at her. She swerved to the side and kicked him high in the head. She fought well but she could never take on 2 grown men. She discovered this when Billy Miles suddenly grabbed her from behind and smashed her on the head with a heavy plastic chair. The buzzing was slashed off and her world became silent.

John saw his partner fall to the ground like a half-empty sack of potatoes and rushed over. He tried to fire at the pair of Super Soldiers again, and because of this, was whacked on the head too, and tumbled to the ground.

Monica awoke with a very high-pitched and loud buzzing in her ears again. She felt a flaky substance on her head, which she suspected was dried blood, and tried to open her eyes. When she did, all she saw was darkness. Efforts at moving her head and limbs accomplished nothing, and finally she just flopped on the floor, feeling defeated.

"So, our little slugger is awake," said a voice that was very close to her. The voice resonated through her mind, sounding eerily familiar. Suddenly light flooded her eyes as the bandana over them was removed. Billy Miles' slanted face stared her in the eyes. Just at the sight of him, the vibrations in her ears surged to lofty levels, and she winced at the change, making the adjustment. He was a very cruel man, with long lines down his face making him look evil. The rest of his body was equally lanky: his skin wrapped loosely around his string bean frame. His clothes hung a bit looser than before.

Monica scanned the room and noticed John tied up in the chair next to her, not awake yet. "Your partner in crime hasn't had the same luck as you. He doesn't seem to get the fact that bullets don't kill us," taunted Miles.

Monica remained silent while Miles attempted to wake John up with a rapid whack across his face. It worked. "So the little gun guy has finally decided to join us," Miles chided. "It seems your partner needs to teach you how to fight without guns. She kicked one of my men very hard. He still hasn't woken up. And I doubt he ever will.

Now, I hope you are both comfy, because this will be your last day alive." He smiled.

"Do you both know what happened? Well, for a refresher, Monica noticed Scully's baby while John was stuffing his face. She fought, and got knocked out. John shot, and got knocked out. Now you are at Mt. Weather. I believe you are familiar with the location; it is where your friend Mulder snuck in and got caught. Now I know you have no idea where Mulder and Scully are, so I won't ask you that. In fact, I'm not asking you anything, because I already know what you know, and that is too much. But I would like to tell you one thing before you die, Monica. I would like to tell you about your family."

"I knew you when you were a young girl, how you have grown since you were two," he reminisced. His ghastly hand reached out to stroke her cheek and she shrank back at his cold touch.

"You had a happy childhood, living in the suburbs of New York in a nice house. You had an older brother; I believe you still know him today. His name is Billy Miles."

Chapter 9

Another break-in wasn't necessary this time, and Scully was thankful of that. As she and Mulder neared Wyoming they developed a plan that would let them get close to William. They had even spent almost all of the rest of their money when they stopped and bought some dressy business clothes to look convincing. They were betting the plan would work, as long as one thing held out: that there were no Super Soldiers in rural Wyoming.

They pulled in to the Wyoming visitors' center just to look at the phone book. Next, they had quite a drive to the government building of the town they had approached. The 'government building' was really nothing more than a diminutive sheriff's station on a gravel road, right on the outside of town. _At least the people here will be easy to fool,_ Mulder hoped.

Bells fixed over the door sounded there entrance to the building. "Well, hello," called a simpleton sheriff from the front. "What can I do for you folks?"

As planned, Scully spoke, using difficult words and a smooth, self-confident voice. "Sir, we are from the Department of Child and Family Services in Washington, D.C. We are looking into the concern expressed by a Ms. Melanie Parker about a child named William. We have had trouble locating him because he was given up for an anonymous adoption. But, under federal law number 63105, each state should have information about an adopted child, anonymous or not. So, we need to see your anonymous adoption records to locate him. Thank you."

The sheriff was obviously very gullible, which doesn't really matter much in a small town anyway, so he got out the records. Mulder and Scully sat down at a table and chair set in the corner and leafed through them. They were trying to remain serious, even thought they were so relieved that such a thing actually existed. Still, it frightened Scully that information like this was so easy to obtain, even for two fugitives. _I hope no one has beaten us to him,_ she worried. They had found nine Williams, and narrowed it down to the one they knew just had to be theirs. Scully wanted to hug the paper, but she knew that would seem very odd, so she refrained from doing so.

Instead, she set the documents back on the counter, except for William's, which she slipped into her pocket. _I'm erasing William from the list,_ she thought, trying not to let a smile break through.

"Thank you sir," Mulder called as they left.

Scully and Mulder exchanged glances as they looked at the map. Finally they found the tiny town William supposedly lived in. They slowly pulled out, waving to the sheriff one last time. But it was only until they had descended the colossal gravel hill and gotten back on the highway that they both shouted with joy and let smiles beam across their faces as they sped toward their son.

The fact of how easy it was to find William worried Scully plenty. When they pulled into the small town that the records claimed he lived, all they had to do was pull up to the nearest gas station and ask where the Van De Kamp's lived. It seemed everyone knew, and gave clear directions all the way out to the edge of town (which wasn't that far), to a giant ranch where they lived.

Even though they had luck getting there, as they pulled up, it looked like the luck had left them. 6 newspapers scattered the lawn, and there were no cars in sight. The house looked deserted, and no sounds or movement came within. Scully was very freaked out by all this until she saw the note on the door. It read:

Dear Wilbur,

I'm very sorry we won't be able to attend the church picnic and bake sale fundraiser, we are on vacation. But I have baked a few pies for the bake sale. They are in the kitchen, and the back door is open, which leads right to the kitchen. Thanks so much for taking time to come over and get them. I hope the fundraiser is successful. I'll write you a postcard from Cancun.

Sincerely,

Annie Van De Kamp

Scully saw it, read it twice to make sure what she was hearing was true, and then retreated to Mulder's comforting hug. "I knew it was just too good to be true. Something that great couldn't happen to us. Let's just forget this and go have some fun for a change."

Mulder knew from that statement she needed some serious cheering up. "Scully, it's not like you to give up. We have to keep looking."

"No Mulder, that's you who never gives up. I have limits and I am seriously over them."

So he led her back to the car, aware that she'd probably be in better spirits after a rest. He sat there and let his mind wander, and eventually it drifted back to his dream. He remembered it clearly:

_Three men emerged from the smoky shadows. Mulder presumed them to be the Lone Gunmen, and approached them. But before he could utter a word, Byers pulled a gun. "Go to where it all began, or it all will end."_

_Then Frohike spoke, "Someone who needs to see you waits there. But he won't wait long._

_Finally Langly put in his piece of the riddle, "Take a round-about route. But don't make the mistake of traveling the same road twice._

_Then all in perfect unison they echoed "Don't let those on your side loose faith in you. They must know you live. Go to where it all began, or it will all end." Then they all walked away slowly. Mulder tried to tag along like he had once done, but he found himself chained to the invisible air. He couldn't even ask for an explanation, his mouth felt too parched to yell out._

And now that dream just started to become clear to him. _Go to where it all began_, _wait, Scully and I had our first case near Roswell, the CSM said that the original shadow government started at those pueblos too, it must be those pueblos! But they were blown up. Well, maybe something will happen outside the pueblos. I sure hope I'm right and I'm not just making outrageous leaps. Oh great. Now I sound like Scully. _

"Scully, I know where to go," he announced.

"Stop trying to cheer me up, Mulder," she sniveled.

"Okay," he replied calmly. Then, he drove off, creating a whirlwind of dust behind the speeding SUV.

"Mulder, where are we going?"

"Well, you didn't want to know, so now you just have to guess," he joked as he turned back onto the gravel road.

Scully just rolled her eyes.

Chapter 10

Monica couldn't believe what she was hearing, or if she was even hearing it in the first place. She tried to cry, but no tears fell. Her throat gasped for air and she began to cough madly, shaking.

John knew he couldn't let them die like this. He had to talk to Monica. They had to save William. So, he devised a very simple plan in his head, for he didn't have long. It just might work, just maybe. He had seen Monica do it during the fit she was still throwing. It was very clever, actually. She was bubbling with anger, but she also had the wits to tip over her chair. _She can manage her anger anywhere, and not let it cloud her insight. Too bad we're never going back to the FBI, because I see a promotion in the works._ When she had done this, one of the ropes came undone after a little thrashing.So all he had to do was distract Miles until Monica got her hands undone and crept up behind him, delivering one of her nearly lethal kicks to the head. It was an unspoken understanding that glimmered with an enormous purpose, and both knew what they had to do.

John started coughing wildly, and Miles casually strolled over, looking very weary. _Good, I can definitely take him when he's half awake,_ thought John. He knew Monica would be safer too. Miles removed his gag, and John coughed louder than ever.

"If you're trying to attract attention, it's no good. This place is more soundproof than a snoring man snoozing on a comfy couch," snapped Miles.

John just kept coughing louder and louder.

"Do you have asthma or something?" Miles questioned, beginning to look nervous for whatever reason.

John nodded between amplified coughs.

"Well, don't you have an inhaler?"

John nodded, and then looked at his bound hands.

Miles started to wonder if this was all an act_. Hey, why should I care anyway if this guy dies? That's the ultimate goal anyway_. But he didn't have time to inform John that he was on to his performance, because Monica clubbed him on the head with a chair. He flopped to the ground, and Monica grasped his wrists into her handcuffs.

"I knew there was a reason I didn't throw these away," she replied, beaming. She quickly removed John's gag, and he took a deep breath.

Monica opened her mouth and tried to utter something, anything, to prove she was okay. But all she could do was collapse into John's welcome arms, her tears soaking his stained shirt. He just gave her the support she needed by whispering, "I'm so glad you had the sense to tip over your chair, even with all these other things going on. If not, well, I don't even want to think what would have happened."

Monica's sobs slowly became sniffles, which sluggishly became slightly wet spots on John's t-shirt. She finally cleared her throat, and stared him in the eyes. "I guess that's the only time I can take to cry now. We better get going or someone will find us," she sniffed, trying to sound strong.

"Where will we take him?"

"Oh that's simple," she replied. "We take him to New Mexico."

John looked especially puzzled at first, but then his face lit up as he exclaimed, "Ah. Good idea. But how do we get out of the building and down there without anyone noticing us?"

"I think it's time for a little more ass kicking," she answered with a smile. But underneath that beam was a lonely girl longing for the truth about her past she had once tried to hide. She took William in her arms and hugged him tight, and then she took a deep breath, and led the way toward the thick bulletproof door. As she paced toward the door, she realized that for the first time in days, her ears were clear, free of the bothersome buzzing. The silence felt so strange.

Monica's hands froze as they touched the thick, bulletproof glass of the door. She paused for a second to regain the calmness she once had. _I hope that Billy Miles was just scaring me. But I can't get it off my mind. What if it is true?_ _What if he is my brother? How can I do this to my brother? Did he have a bit of compassion that wasn't squelched by his abduction to leave my ropes loose? I'm sure he didn't want to kill me, but he didn't have a choice. But what choice do I have? It's his safety or mine. _She answered herself by shivering from head to toe. Her shaking subsided as John touched her shoulder and whispered in her ear from behind, "I know this must be tough for you, and I know you need some time to think about all that has been said, but we aren't safe here. We need to get going. I'm sorry."

She nodded and sniffed away a tear. Then she slowly shoved the thick door open, peering out through the tiniest crack. People, presumably Super Soldiers, flooded the area and buzzed around like a fuming gang of killer ants. _This is going to be hell, _she thought. "Just try to fit in, and follow me," she muttered to John. "I want to do this without drawing any attention, if possible." _Walking around with a baby and an unconscious man and killing people certainly attracts attention, _she considered as she slipped into the hall.

She practically hugged the wall, and just followed her instinct, never slowing and scratching her head to consider which direction to go. She had that figured out long before she got there. John just trailed behind, trying to fit in. It was especially difficult to do this when he saw a guarded door and saw Monica veer toward it like she was being tugged by some mystical force.

A man who looked even more buff than Knowle Roher was guarding the door attentively. John hoped Monica knew what she was doing, because a confrontation with that man would prove to be not so pleasant for their side. "Pass, please," the man barked. Monica pulled out her wallet and handed it to him leisurely. While he was busy examining it, she punched him in the gut. "Stop," he yelled as they grabbed his keys. "You can't go in there, this pass isn't legal," he whined. As he reached for his gun, Monica helped herself to it while John delivered a powerful slug to the man's head. He whimpered his final words as they slipped through the door.

"Wow," the duo uttered in unison upon entering the room. They had penetrated into a huge-beyond-belief hanger, filled with hundreds of helicopters and small jets. They were all arranged so meticulously that they seemed to stretch right out in front of their eyes for miles.

"Monica, how did you know about this place?" John questioned.

"When Mulder was on trial, I requested a copy of the blueprints of this building to see where Mulder broke in and where the "murder" was committed."

"It's amazing," John gasped in awe.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't have time to gawk, but we have to go," she resolved, dragging him toward a nearby helicopter. Once they were inside she announced, "I sure hope this trip to New Mexico is as successful as our first one." She glanced back to Billy Miles, unconscious, but still chained to the back seats of the helicopter. She also gazed at John, who was busily entertaining William. When he noticed her gazing at him, he looked up and unwrapped Williams's fingers from his index finger, and sheepishly smiled, trying to look like he wasn't interested by the cute baby. Monica didn't fall for it, and let it show by allowing a big grin to spread across her face like maple syrup on warm pancakes.

"What?" John shrugged, trying to look innocent.

Monica didn't say a word, she just looked away with a smirk, and placed her hands on the wheel, inserted many keys until one worked, and the helicopter rose into the intensely indigo sky.

Once they were safely away from the worries of Mt. Weather and Monica un-tensed about flying again, her mind began to drift away into the sky like a lost balloon. She needed this time to think about Billy Miles. But what she thought unnerved her.

_Billy Miles is probably right. I just have to accept it. Why would he tell me otherwise? You can't just make stuff like that up. And maybe that's why my rope was a little loose around the hands: he still had an eighth of an ounce of love in his heart, and deep down he couldn't kill me. He wanted to give me a chance to live, if I would be smart enough to see it and take it. _She glanced back at him and thought: _and now I'm going to kill him? That just wouldn't be right. But, what choice do I have? What he has become wasn't up to him, and it's not up to me that what he has become happens to be my enemy. He tried to kill me before too. Anyway, with any luck, he won't even be conscious when it happens._

Even though she tried to console herself, her stomach still felt heavy with purpose and decision as she landed the helicopter almost exactly where Knowle Roher met the same fate the brother she never knew would soon meet.

She didn't even need John's help in lifting her brother's limp body from the car. He was so pathetically thin and wimpy. He looked so innocent, but she tried to block that from her mind because she knew it wasn't true. She scanned the area, not surprised that no one had discovered the ruins and were searching them.

"They did a pretty good job keeping people away from here and covering their tracks on this one," John said like he was reading her mind. He walked with Monica, slowly, and not because of the burden she was lugging. Eventually they got to a good spot, and she stopped, slowly laying his body on the ground. Then they both just stood there and waited, that's all they could do.

Selfish thoughts flashed across Monica's mind: _I wish I could save him. Think of all the answers he could give me about my past. I've wanted these for my whole life, and now they're so close. I could just keep really close tabs on him; make sure he never got away. And I could tap him for answers; question him all day, asking whatever comes to mind, what Mom was like, or dad, before it happened. And I would finally get what I had been searching for. I could teach him to love again, I could reverse the Super Solider process on him, and then on them all. _As she grew to understand and believe what her brother had told her, she slowly and painstakingly realized the tremendous weight and purpose of the quick decision she was about to make. But as she leaned toward saving him and using him as a lab rat in her own personal search for the truth, the decision was made for her, she was too late. Sparks of metallic silver spread across Billy Miles' face, and if he has been conscious, his body would have been shaking like a baby tree caught in the middle of a horrific thunder storm. His body slowly floated off the ground, and then, without warning, suddenly slammed into the magnetite cliff, disappearing into the dust. Monica pulled John close and sobbed into his shoulder, while they were slowly enveloped in the rising sand.

"It was for the best of things," John whispered.

Monica tried to believe him, but wondered if what lay ahead would force her to disagree.

Chapter 11

Scully awoke slowly, suddenly filled with a renewed sense of reason in her life. She had no idea how long they had been driving, or how long she'd been asleep. But as the darkness cleared from her eyes, she could definitely tell they'd been far. The lush acres of trees and looming snow-covered mountains had been replaced with parched terracotta and stony crags. "Mulder, are we in New Mexico?"

"So, you finally guessed it. Good job."

"It all makes sense now."

"Yeah, I knew you'd get there eventually, it just takes some of us longer than others," he teased.

She swatted at him playfully, to which he replied, "Scully, don't hit the driver, unless you want to become part of the beautiful scenery."

He turned onto a familiar road and Scully peered around looking for anything unusual. "Mulder, don't you think they'll have tons of agents swarming around the bombing site?"

"Doubt it," he answered while munching on the last sunflower seed. "They already know everything they want to." He reached for another seed and gasped, "Oh no. We're out of my brain food, we better be close now."

"No, seriously, I see smoke coming from over there. Could they still be burning?"

"Who knows, Scully? The desert is hot and dry. It's plausible. But now I'm sounding like you. We'll just have to check it out. I trust the LGM, I always have."

Scully shut her mouth to avoid possibly offending his dead friends, and Mulder parked the car behind a steep cliff. Walking the rest of the way would at least make them less noticeable. But, if they did have to make an escape, it would be a longer trek. But it wasn't time to figure, it was time for action.

Suddenly, Scully saw two figures huddled together near the ruins. She squinted into the sun, to verify what she hoped she saw around the corner. When she was absolutely sure, she shouted as she burst forward in a sudden spurt of energy, "Monica! John!"

Monica broke free from John's healing arms and rushed toward Dana. "Oh my gosh! Dana!" They hugged for what seemed like centuries to Mulder and Doggett who just stood around kicking up dust and looking at their shoes. "Where have you been?" Monica questioned.

"Everywhere," Scully sighed. She quickly summed up her story, and Monica did the same.

"I'm so sorry about Billy Miles," Scully breathed. Mulder stood behind her with a squint on his face, his nose twitched into a figuring pose. He was thinking about the truth, about Super Soldiers and the Shadow Government. He could never stop. It was a disease.

Monica could only glance at the cliff and feel that she had made the wrong decision yet again, a feeling that would hitch along with her wherever she went, no matter how she tried to bury it, it was her past, and it would always pop up at the worst times. That was just its nature. And if she had learned one thing it was that hiding from it was futile, and that if you ignore it when you have the chance to get answers, you'll regret it forever when you finally realize the magnitude of that moment after it has passed. Then she sighed and moved on from it yet again, kidding herself that she could leave it behind. "Scully, Mulder, follow me. I have a big surprise," beamed Monica, forgetting her troubles in the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Scully glanced at Mulder with excitement, and then trailed after Monica like a dog who wants a bone. "Wow. Did you fly this?" Scully questioned when they had arrived at the dust-stained helicopter.

Monica nodded. Then, she opened the back door and reached inside, retrieving a bundle of blankets.

"William!" Scully squeaked, taking the baby boy gently. The reunion that followed was so joy-filled that it swelled the spirits of everyone present, even John. Scully started rocking him and kissing him and hugging him, and talking to him in her special voice she hadn't used in months: what sounded like at least three octaves higher than her normal voice. She felt so overwhelmed with happiness she just didn't no what to do first, so she just stood in swirling sand, hugging William extremely tight as if to make up for lost time. But she knew that there was nothing she could do to delete what the past months had brought, nothing she could do to hide what she had done, the outcome of the decision she had to make. But for now she couldn't think of dark thoughts like that, she couldn't think about anything, except for the luck of it all, that someone truly must be watching over them for something this magnificent to happen.

William himself seemed ignorant to the utter bliss that was spiraling around him. He just smiled, and grabbed a tuft of Scully's ginger hair in his tiny fist. His huge eyes glanced around, taking in all the interesting sights and sounds, and eventually they settled on his tear-eyed mother. He just looked at her for the longest time, his fragile neck and curious eyes peering upwards as if suddenly he knew something was different, that somehow, even thought he didn't remember a second of it, his life had dramatically changed several times over the past three months. His eyes swelled and glazed over, and Scully started into them, hypnotized by the deep pools of thought she saw, and all the ideas she observed, submerged just below the surface, like he was a whole new universe just waiting to reveal his many treasures at the right time. Then one of her fallen tears splashed over his face, and he suddenly snapped out of the gaze, breaking the bond. Scully withdrew and shuddered at what she saw, but wondered why he was suddenly back to normal. His burning stare lingered over her face, and she wiped away both his and her tears as a way to shake off the great feeling of purpose that suddenly compressed her shoulders.

Then she turned and placed him in Mulder's arms. William and Mulder just gazed at each other, and tears streaked down Scully's face. Their gaping looks seemed to bore cavernous pits in each others forehead, and it lasted for near eternity. Just the picture of the two of them together was enough to drive the tears down Scully's face yet again, and the fat drops rolled down her curved face with ease. Mulder shook his head quickly for a second, as if he was trying to rid himself of a bothersome ghost of a memory that wouldn't leave him alone, informing her that they had both seen the same thing.

Mulder cleared his throat and glanced up at Scully, confirming what she had thought about William's eyes and his deep stare: it was chilling. If it had creeped Mulder out, it was definitely disturbing. But Mulder couldn't help shoving all that aside when he turned his eyes down again, and saw his son, just being a blissful baby, and not an eerie message bearer. A smile spread across his face like butter left out in the sun, as William's tiny fingers closed around one of his. "You've gotten so much bigger," Mulder exclaimed in his own attempt at a high-pitched voice. Scully beamed at his attempt at the "baby voice." "And you're so beautiful... I mean handsome." He settled back away from the alarm that had frozen his heart moments before and became a father once again. A normal father, something he could always strive and hope for, but never achieve. He and Scully stood in one place for the longest time, admiring their son, soaking up the calm instant, and letting its healing powers wash over them, soothing them while it was possible.

Even Monica and John were in tears as they witnessed this joyous scene.

Everyone's tears slowly subsided into sniffles, which blossomed into full-fledged smiles. But one sad thought was in the back of everyone's mind: soon it would be time to part. There was no question about it; they must not know where the others lived, so they would have less of a chance of getting caught. The chances of meeting again were as bleak as a sunless morning, but this was how it had to be to overpower their controlling emotions.

Eventually they all piled into Monica's original car, which had been driven by so many others during the last weeks. They drove to Santa Fe in complete silence, all alone in their own private fantasies. Monica got out to rent a car, and made sure the rental company had locations in Canada. The whole time seemed to barely pass to everyone in the car, like they were just particles of dust drifting in some greater universe. They all wished they were, with no responsibilities, or cares in the world. They would be free, not caged to the decisions they had hastily made, never pausing to realize they would affect their whole life like this.

Then the parting began. John and Monica got into a separate car from Scully and Mulder, and they stood side by side on the parking lot. Monica and Dana were both tearful: they were the ones that had really made friendships during their employment at the FBI headquarters. In the back of her mind, Monica knew she would be crying again soon, but over a different person she had grown to feel affection for on the X-Files.

"It will be fate's decision if we meet again," whispered Monica.

Scully nodded, she couldn't speak in the midst of her tears. She hugged sleeping William close of her, and whispered, "Thanks," for that was all she could say. But it meant so much more to Monica than a casual thank you, it summed up everything about their friendship, helping and depending on each other in times of desperate need.

Then, slowly, Mulder pulled their car out onto the road, and picked up speed heading north. Monica waited until they were out of sight, and then followed slowly behind. Her tears nearly blinded her view of the road, forcing her to go extremely slowly, but she didn't care, she was just trying to savor their last moment together, _forever._ The thought just sent more tears spiraling down Monica's face.

"So, where will you go?" She questioned after her tears had subsided.

John cleared his throat as if he were about to make an important announcement. "Monica, I think that living life in Canada is going to be hard. We have to start over completely, and try desperately not to linger back to ways of the past, hoping in vain for things that can no longer be. And I know that if we don't so something about it, at the end of this trip, we'll have to say goodbye, forever. I think that this new life will be less tough if we live it together. That's why I'm asking you, after our lives get settled in Canada; I'm asking you if you would marry me."

"Yes!" Monica squeaked with almost no hesitation. She steered the car off the road and eased it onto the narrow strip of land running alongside the road. She squeezed him close, but for the first time, this was alive with a new emotion, she finally knew his views mirrored hers, that he loved her too. She started to sob softly, like she had been doing a lot lately, but this time it was out of joy. He embraced her in his warm arms, pulling her into his momentary sense of protection. Her tears turned slowly into wet spots on his shoulder. Then she took a deep breath as he wiped away her last tear.

At that moment she leisurely and deliberately pulled away, and leaned close to him again, but this time for a totally new sensation. Her lips met his, forming a kiss that they had only dreamed about. It was one of those kisses that you only see in the movies, that you think is unattainable. But there was so much passion erupting from this new experience that it suddenly became possible. They had wondered and waited for so long, hoping and wishing that it would come true, so when it did they were almost so ready that they were unprepared. Then there were all the private thoughts that no one could ever have the privilege to ever even begin to probe them all. That was how it happened: out of joy, relief, bliss, and so many other emotions, melting together to make one great end result. As they locked lips, and even after, as John put his arm around her shoulder and they drove off into the horizon, chatting about the impressive life they'd make out of the dust that they were given, Monica thought about all her experiences on The X-Files.

_It's kind of an unwritten rule, about the bond that slowly grows between partners on The X-Files. Even though they sometimes never even share more than a kiss, it is forever present. It develops through their many experiences, and all the things they've seen as a duo, that most never see alone. The sturdy web of trust that can be wound in a second but never shattered on impulse will weave them as one. They will always know each other in so many ways, ones that a test can't even begin to show. They will have risked their own lives for each other countless times, and don't even think twice about doing it. It is the link that allows the pair to make the best of any situation, to ease their sadness with an overwhelming spurt of laughter. Over nine years, or maybe just two, they have created the kind of strong relationship that most never achieve. It means that even though they may never actually mutter, "I love you," despite all odds and all people against them, they will always be together._


End file.
